


Deluxe Care Package

by NyxKeilantra413



Series: Sugar Daddy AU [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Bathing/Washing, Bondage, Crack, Dirty Talk, Feeding Kink, Gangbang, Humor, M/M, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Partners, Nantaimori, Spanking, for the main story, for the side story, i haven't resolved whether it should be pairings or partners smh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxKeilantra413/pseuds/NyxKeilantra413
Summary: In which Keith now can but still forgets to take care of himself, gets surprise visit from his three (3) sugar daddies-turned-boyfriends, gets ‘punished’ by his three (3) sugar daddies-turned-boyfriends, and Kolivan thankfully doesn’t witness or even know about it because he is blissfully occupied with his secret agent job.(featuring a side story: In which Matt, after being dumped by his sugar baby, decides to become a supervillain and Regris, after dumping his sugar daddy, throws himself into work as a secret agent only to be Intrigued™ by this mysterious new villain that seems to like ‘accosting’ him best.)





	1. Chapter 1

There is a saying about Satan and idle hands. The _Brake of Marmora_ ’s new proprietor and sole staff a.k.a Keith agrees with this whole-heartedly. There is never a moment in Keith’s life when he is idling away; every moment of his life is full of action. Except for those times he stares off into the horizon and monologues or goes into flashback of his tragic past, as required by the deities for the shounen anime protagonist he’s meant to be.

That Keith always manages to keep himself busy is rather a mystery amongst the residents of the nameless, peaceful little town where he lives. After all, the town is so tiny that even the most determined hermit cannot avoid knowing the townspeople’s faces, if not their names, and to say there are few things to do around there is like saying there are some drops of water in the ocean.

Certain individuals have undertaken the self-appointed mission to discover what exactly Keith busies himself with, which ought to be easy now that Keith’s ~~watchdogs~~ ~~bodyguards~~ family members no longer operate at _Brake of Marmora_. Alas, they have neglected to take into account the possibility of Regris, former resident ceiling whack-a-mole at _Brake of Marmora_ , having anticipated for this very situation and prepared a relatively legal security system to protect Keith’s privacy. And on the single occasion they managed to bypass the security, they ended up (metaphorically) combusting on the spot witnessing Keith strip off his t-shirt with beads of sweat that looked like they _glowed_.

Unimportant details aside, Keith is always busy—not only with work, but also with his three (3) sugar daddies-turned-boyfriends, who visit him with Expensive™ offerings and fuck him until the five-year-old two streets down asks their parents what ‘fuck’ means.

So busy, in fact, that on one occasion all three (3) sugar daddies-turned-boyfriends find themselves obliged to go on (separate) business trips for two weeks, they return to _Brake of Marmora_ to find...

(Kindly read this with horror music in the background. I find the Night ∞ Series by Vocaloid the best one.)

The front door opens with a creak. The light from outside, disconcertingly bright for how still the day is, shines through the dark, silent room. The three (3) sugar daddies-turned-boyfriends trade glances before hesitantly stepping inside, only to flinch at a crow’s hoarse croak from a corner. Lance’s hand flies to the light switch, revealing not one, not two, but an entire _murder_ of crows in the dusty room. And sprawled face-down on the floor, hair greasy, hand bony, crows pecking him, is...

Hunk, Lance, and Shiro shriek together in horror.

“KEIIIIIITH!!!”

* * *

 

Ulaz blinks at the sky, half certain that he has just heard some people scream. He immediately shifts his attention, however, at the sound of the door being unlocked. The nondescript individual opening the door pauses there, taken aback by the sight of Ulaz in an oversized silken shirt, barely buttoned, and nothing else underneath. But Ulaz is not discouraged, as he notes a sign of lust in the person’s—his target’s—eyes.

He stalks forward, channeling his inner sexy predator and giving his target a hint of a smile.

“I am glad you are finally here,” Ulaz purrs. “Perhaps we can now begin to... _talk_.”

With a move of his hand, his shirt drops to the floor.

The next second, his target follows.

 Ulaz glances at Thace, who conscientiously keeps his eyes above Ulaz’ mohawk. Ulaz hides a fond smile at his colleague’s thoughtful gesture while picking his shirt up.

“You know, I’m glad Keith isn’t working like us. Goodness knows that it’s only good strategy to make him be the honeypot,” Ulaz comments idly.

“I concur. Although I’m sure Keith can make us stressed enough without seducing anybody.”

* * *

 

There is an idiom, ‘trapped between a rock and a hard place’, the meaning of which you can guess yourself.

Related to the idiom, now picture this:

On the left, a big man glowering more like a grumpy teddy bear than someone actually intimidating, but with biceps big enough to be called bazookas instead of guns.

On the right, a twig-like man you can probably snap in half over your knees, but with tentacle-like limbs fortified by a lifetime spent with much older siblings and much younger niblings.

In the front, a man sculpted like a benevolent deity with a questionable hairstyle, but with a Mighty Frown of Disapproval™ capable of shaming porridge to turn back into rice.

...wait, that doesn’t make any sense. Oh well, it’s not like Keith makes any sense either.

“You don’t make any sense,” snaps Lance, further cementing that Keith doesn’t make any sense. “We’ve only been gone for a fortnight! Two weeks! Fourteen days! How could you relapse into _this_ state in a fortnight?!”

_This_ is emphasized by a sweep of a long hand over the mess-but-still-hot-mess that is Keith, who mutters at his crossed arms, “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You were eating mayonnaise, Keith,” Hunk interjects with a withering stare. “You were eating mayonnaise from a packet that you didn’t even cut, but _bit_ the top off, and you just—you—you sucked the mayonnaise like it was a juice pouch, Keith. And it wasn’t even a good brand!”

“It was on sale!” Keith doesn’t whine, but the look he gives Hunk is a near-pout, fatal enough that Hunk almost forgives him on the spot. Unfortunately for Keith, Lance yells again at him.

“You are lactose intolerant!”

Hunk gives Keith another withering stare.

“Keith,” Shiro finally speaks up. “We’re not angry at you. We’re worried. And scared. I thought you were dead, Keith.”

After all, when you came back after a two-week trip overseas and eagerly visited your boyfriend, you wouldn’t want to see said boyfriend in a zombie-like state—with multiple bags under unseeing eyes, pale and malnourished body sprawled lifelessly on the floor, and _a goddamn murder of crows_ cawing and pecking all over him as if he was already dead.

The earnest look in his boyfriends’ faces make Keith feel guilty. He drops his gaze to the floor.

“I’m sorry...”

Shiro exhales softly and moves to pull Keith into his arms, before blinking to find that Lance has pulled Keith into _his_ arms first. After side-eyeing Lance and getting an eyebrow waggle in reply, Shiro speaks up again.

“Well, I won’t say it’s fine, because it definitely _isn’t_ , but will you promise to take better care of yourself?”

“Mm fmprh.”

“Lance, let Keith go, I doubt he can even breathe.”

Lance concedes with an exaggerated pout, allowing Keith’s head to rest over his shoulder instead of buried over his chest.

“I promise,” Keith says to the wall, since Lance’s arms are still tight enough around him that he can’t move his head. “I really didn’t mean to make you worry...”

“Oh, Keith,” Hunk’s voice cracks before he snatches Keith from Lance’s arms and sniffles on Keith’s grease-stained t-shirt. “We know you never did, cherry. Hush, you’re in good hands now.”

“That’s right, Kei—wait, are you implying that Keith wasn’t in good hands, _my_ hands then?”

“Anyway,” Shiro smoothly cuts, ignoring Lance rapidly gesturing something complicated and messy with his hands. “Regardless of all that... You’ve been a bad boy, you know, Keith.”

“Huh?” Keith manages to wiggle and stare at Shiro in confusion. “What do you-?”

Keith’s voice halts as he sees the dark look in Shiro’s eyes. Lance makes a real-life >:3c face and Hunk hides a smug smile while Shiro smiles and strokes Keith’s chin gently.

“Oh yes, you’ve been a bad boy. Do you know what bad boys get, Keith?”

Keith can’t take his eyes off Shiro, but his brain spins, searching for the answer. What is it that Ulaz used to tell him... Oh, right!

“A disappointed look and a ‘do it without getting caught next time’.”

Shiro, Lance, and Hunk all stare at Keith, possibly forming judgement about Keith’s father(s), until Shiro manages to resume his Dark Dom™ persona and tells him, “No, Keith. Bad boys, like you, get punished.”

And then, they pounce.

* * *

 

Totally oblivious and likely uncaring about Keith’s sugar daddies or the safety of Keith’s ass, one (1) Matt Holt, heir to the largest tech company in the world, is sulking.

Wait, no, that sounds too baby-ish. He’s brooding.

Wait again, that sounds too emo. He’s... ruminating?

Fuck that pretentious shit.

Matt sniffs before burying his face in his pillow, not wanting the tears that are welling up in his eyes to drop and force him to acknowledge his broken heart. He hugs his pillow tighter and does all that a true angsty teenager is supposed to do when being heartbroken.

But at last, a disembodied voice breaks through the dark clouds of angst over his head. Matt’s eyes snap open. Hastily he lifts his head, trying to locate the source of the voice, before his eyes fall on a home theatre set in one corner of his room.

The light from the screen pierces not only through the darkness of Matt’s bedroom, but also of his conflicted mind. It’s as though the deities themselves send down their messenger to Matt, to bestow upon his puny mortal self the holy quest...

Or the potentially fuckboy-ish move of Getting One’s Ex Back.

Matt keeps his eyes, riveted, on the main antagonist of the anime playing on the screen. Said main antagonist is a filthy rich tech company’s CEO who uses his wealth to become a supervillain, all in the name of Keeping The Hero’s Eyes On Him And Him Alone, In A Fangirl’s Fantasy-Fueling, Ambiguous, Totally _Non_ -Platonic Way.

“That’s right,” Matt breathes out, transfixed. “If you can have a _legal_ , _parental figure-approved_ , and yet _cool_ job, you won’t even consider getting a sugar daddy. But if you’re a hero or a secret agent... And you _don’t_ have an archenemy, then-!”

Suffice to say, it is an Eureka moment. Matt scrambles to his feet, cozily clad in Pokemon-patterned socks, and keeps staring at the generic shounen anime while practically vibrating on the spot. Behind his glasses, his eyes are bloodshot and slightly bulging out, and his mouth turns into a creepy copy of a _smile_.

“Ahahaha... Ahahaha... AHAHAHA! GENIUS!”

A young girl walking by Matt’s suite stops at his door. Peering through to see Matt practising an evil cackle before choking and hurriedly getting a water bottle, she squints.

Later on, she—Katie Holt, Matt’s little sister by day and Pidge Gunderson, CEO of a rising, new tech-based toy company by night, or by anytime she wants to be either—asks her mother,

“Mom, what’s happening with Matt now?”

Colleen Holt—the matriarch of the Holt family—answers placidly, “Your brother’s at that very special age when a boy has only one thing in his mind.”

Katie/Pidge scrunches her nose. “World domination?”

“Boys.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *horror movie voice* In which Hunk deals his punishment to Keith...

Before Hunk and his mortal form of ambrosia and nectar appeared in Keith’s life, Keith never had any problem eating. That is to say, he could guzzle a carton of expired milk or scarf down an entire loaf of mouldy bread, and the only consequence would be his former work colleagues freaking out upon discovering it and attempting to drag him to the hospital.

 _“Human bodies,”_ Ulaz informed Keith, his eyes bearing a look haunted enough for a soldier returning from the battlefield—even though all he had done was checking the inside of Keith’s fridge, _“can_ not _, must_ not _, and will_ not _survive on food products salvaged from the dumpster.”_

 _“In my defence,”_ Keith answered Ulaz, taking another bite of a humongous hamburger practically dripping grease with but a strip of lettuce so limp it could be a green-coloured tissue masquerading as a veg instead, _“the food didn’t exactly touch the inside of the dumpster when I dove for them.”_

(It was true. Keith and the gaze of raccoons dwelling in the dumpster behind the local diner had an unspoken, unwritten agreement: Keith got anything placed on top of the aforementioned dumpster while the raccoons got whatever was thrown inside.)

(It just happened that the bag containing the best of the worst food, left by the diner’s employees who had taken to regard Keith as a stray cat they liked to feed, had been balanced precariously that day, forcing Keith to literally dive for them as they nearly fell into the grasp of the hungry raccoons.)

(Keith had to appease the raccoons accusing him of breaking their agreement after that.)

But then Hunk did appear, bringing with him plastic containers full of food fit to be sacrificed to the deities. And he appeared not but once in a lifetime either, but _thrice_ in a _day_. Keith’s eating habit is ruined.

( _“Good riddance,”_ Ulaz hissed.

 _“But at what cost?”_ Kolivan muttered.)

Anyway, being regularly fed delicious AND nutritious meals three times a day at fixed hours had the effect of weaning off Keith’s immunity, something that neither he nor Hunk had anticipated, as both had wrongly assumed that Keith’s immunity is one of the gifts bestowed upon him by the deities. So when Hunk left to inspect the overseas branches of his family’s restaurant and Keith decided to... so to speak... _let loose_ , he ended up crashing and dying from starvation.

Hence why he is here now, in Hunk’s private kitchen with its marble countertops and _three_ crystal chandeliers that never fail to earn a spiteful hiss from Keith, not very ready but secretly rather eager to face punishment from Hunk; Lance and Shiro being very ready and very eager co-punishers.

“Ready, Keith?” Hunk asks, voice so cheerful and guiltless that Keith has to forcibly remind himself that he has to be Wary™. “Now, I know this might be pretty intimidating, so if you’re ever scared-”

Even from outside, the emotional switch flipped in Keith’s brain is visible.

“I’m never scared. Let’s do this.” The next moment, his clothes hit the ground. Hunk beams.

“Good boy.”

* * *

 

During an undercover mission deep in a desert palace, Thace suddenly gets an inexplicable chill.

This may be because he is undercover as a male belly-dancer who just has his spine traced with an ice cube by an oil magnate, but somehow he doubts it. And like any experienced spy worth their salt, Thace knows when to trust his gut.

Said gut is telling him that he’d better scram before he gets propositioned by that oily, oil magnate and has to accept for the mission. He promptly makes an acrobatic jump and flip that propels him up the balcony and makes a run for it.

Distantly, he wonders if Keith will be too busy with his work to pick up his old habit of learning some random thing, and if he has mastered the belly-dance he used to learn back in high school.

Hopefully yes to the former and no to the latter; Keith’s stomach is too smooth to be bared to any foolish mortals.

* * *

 

“We are mere mortals.”

Lance solemnly breathes. Hunk nods smugly, while Shiro ignores them and stares at Keith in wonder.

Indeed, they are mere mortals—and foolish ones at that for not anticipating how lethal Keith being punished will be. Even Keith after three days of no shower is still hot enough to get offered a model contract, but the way he is now? Freshly showered, pink cheeks like strawberry icing on creamy skin, bound on his back to the kitchen island, and with sushi rolls artistically arranged on his plump thighs and well-defined torso?

It’s amazing that they have not had explosive orgasm already. Hell, _chain explosive_ orgasm, even.

The blush on Keith’s cheeks deepens as Lance and Shiro walk closer, watching him like something on display for purchase. His wrists and ankles are chained with padded leather cuffs to the knobs of the drawers below, and Hunk has made him struggle to the best of his ability until he’s conceded that he will not become Houdini the Second.

As Lance’s long, tapered fingers and Shiro’s cold, prosthetic hand begin touching him, Keith can only bite his lips and toss his head from side to side. His toes curl when Lance’s fingers trace figures inside his thigh, and his hands clench and unclench while Shiro tenderly stroke his neck.

A tap at his cheek makes Keith turn, coming face to cock with Hunk. The latter grins at him, nervous yet excited, embarrassed yet visibly ( _very_ visibly) aroused, before nudging Keith’s lips apart with the head of his huge cock.

“Remember, Keith,” Hunk reminds him, mock-sternly. “The point of this punishment is so you learn to eat. That doesn’t mean you should literally eat my dick, because I really like this dick and I believe you like my dick too-” Keith snorts softly, amused. “-but anyway, when we say eat, you _eat_. Alright, Keith?”

“Sure thing.” Keith quirks a smile. His head tilted to the side, he wraps his tongue around the head of Hunk’s cock and sucks it, muffling small noises as Lance and Shiro keep touching his body.

Hunk groans, rocking his cock in and out of Keith’s mouth. All those times being all hot and bothered seeing Keith practice on anything phallic only to wilt the instances Keith deemed his ‘exercise’ done for the day and _bit_ said phallic object _off_ are worth experiencing Keith’s skill now. He rapidly thrusts in and out of Keith’s wide-open mouth, and quietly sends a reverent prayer to the possibly-existing deity of fellatio for easing Keith’s way into mastering the art of deepthroating.

Lance has no intention of being ignored; gripping Keith’s thighs tightly, he deepthroats Keith’s own cock, causing him to scream in surprise into (or around?) Hunk’s cock and jerking up, nearly knocking the sushi rolls off his body. Keith squeezes his eyes and whines, loud enough to be heard above the squelch of cocks going in and out of mouths, when Shiro lays a hand over the spot between Keith’s chest and abs and starts eating a sushi roll off Keith’s right nipple, following with the left one.

When Hunk finishes with a hissed mild expletive (“Fiddlesticks is totally a dirty word!”), he barely has time to regain his breath before ordering Keith, “Do not swallow.”

Keith dutifully Does Not Swallow.

Hunk gently takes Keith’s face in his hands. A featherlight touch of his jaw keeps Keith’s mouth open, Hunk’s cum pooled and mixed with saliva is on display.

“We are mere mortals,” Lance intones as solemnly as before. His hand keeps mercilessly jerking off Keith’s cock, but his other hand picks a sushi up and pops it in Keith’s mouth.

Keith involuntarily makes a garbled, confused noise, responded only by Hunk’s firm, “Eat.”

Keith—shuts his mouth up with a click, and Eats.

He has barely swallowed one sushi, flavoured with Hunk’s cum, when Lance pops in another sushi.

“Eat.”

Hunk follows, taking a sushi off Keith’s stomach.

“Eat.”

Shiro takes it one step further, taking a sushi with his mouth and feeding Keith like a bird. His tongue greets Keith’s mouth before he croons,

“ _Eat_ , Keith.”

Keith chews and swallows, whines and moans, until at last, he orgasms with a shout all over himself. Lance scoops up some of the cum with his fingers and dangle them near Keith’s panting, swollen lips until Keith exhales a laughter and licks them.

“And what have you learnt from this, Keith?” Hunk asks mock-sternly, already moving to untie Keith.

Keith sighs in bliss as Hunk and Lance start massaging his stiff limbs and Shiro cleans his sweaty torso with a wet-wipe. Equally blissfully, he answers,

“Cum isn’t a really appropriate condiment for sushi.”

When the hands on him stop suddenly, Keith blinks and peek at Hunk, curious.

Judging from the look at Hunk’s face, Keith surmises he has not anticipated the sacrilege of food and sex mixed like that.

* * *

 

Regris, main hacker of the secret service team _Blades of Marmora_ , silently pops the ceiling tile open before landing inside the high-security main control room. Swift as a wind spirit, he darts to the huge monitor taking up nearly the entirety of one wall there, and has barely finished typing the necessary code as per his mission order, when his ears catch the unmistakeable, awful sound of a gun cocked.

(Heh, cocked.)

Regris turns his head, one hand half concealed behind his torso already flying to the gun in his belt—a _bladed_ gun, of course, since he belongs to the _Blades of Marmora_ and not some second-rate rip-off named, say, the _Guns of Gamara_ —and comes mask-to-mask with a... well, masked figure, pointing a gun at him.

As Regris instinctively points his own gun at the figure in response, several thoughts run through his head.

First, _what the quiznak is up with that mask that does not look like mine at all?_

Second, _damn those are some weedy limbs, they must get blown away by stray breeze_.

Third, _that nerdy body reminds me of Matt..._

Fourth, _oh my deities, Regris, you can’t be still heartbroken over your former sugar daddy whom_ you _broke up with in the first place to spare your boss’ sanity!_

And fifth, _why the quiznak are we staying still and not saying anything?_

(All of these thoughts, of course, run through in a matter of seconds, like a true shounen anime—or perhaps sports anime—in which a minute may be stretched through three episodes.)

“And you would be?”

Regris’ voice comes out distorted by the built-in feature of the mask. The figure tilts their—his?—head, as though in contemplation, before pulling the trigger, causing Regris to dart away and return fire.

The figure, weedy limbs and nerdy body aside, is surprisingly nimble enough to twist and duck their way around Regris’ shot. Regris is torn between dodging the figure’s own shots and getting the huge monitor be destroyed, thus risking The Code not run properly, or just throwing caution to the wind like ~~Keith~~ a shounen protagonist and jumping the figure until they cry uncle.

Alas, Regris is too caught up with his indecision, that it’s with a hitched breath he realizes the figure has taken advantage of their dodging to stealthily close the distance between them and Regris.

“I could be anything you want, baby.”

He, clearly male unless this person is trans and/or using a voice-changer, practically croons at Regris. Regris blanches. Especially when he realizes that the male has not only backed him into a corner, but also shamelessly grabbed Regris’ chin down and added,

“Who I _would_ be, however, depends on what you _want_ me to be.”

If Regris gapes at the guy behind his mask, one can hardly blame him. He’s followed Kolivan into this job with the expectation of crawling inside vents and experiencing near-death situations, sometimes both at once. He has no expectation of being hit on by a nerdy-looking, masked, potentially hostile individual.

Especially with such a shitty line and the vaguely sexual chin harassment.

Before Regris can mentally wail for not having taken his Honeypot Training™ seriously, the guy steps back and—why, dude, why?—blows Regris a _kiss_.

If Regris is still gaping like an actual asshole having just been reamed by ten different dicks without a break, completely forgetting that he still has his bladed gun in his hand and therefore able to subdue the guy who is shamelessly flouncing away...

Well.

 _Kolivan_ may blame him, but Regris suspects he’ll symphatize instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me assure you, writing this chapter is much harder than chasing baby chickens to be put in their coop before dark. At least chasing them only takes me one night.
> 
> If you guys notice some tags edited, I take full blame. I can't fit them all and still publish in a reasonable amount of time.
> 
> Kindly leave a comment below... I am... very thirsty...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance deals his punishment to Keith...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me @ me: is this really dirty talk tho  
> me: shush, the story's done  
> me @ me: but shouldn't we proofread it first  
> me: sssh, it's ok just publish this

Before Lance and his decadent spa treatment heelie’d into Keith’s life, Keith never had any problem keeping clean. That is to say, he could go for an entire fortnight without a drop of water touching his skin or scratch between his (unfairly plushy) ass-cheeks and use the very hand to take out a chunk of food stuck between his teeth afterward, and the only consequence would be his former colleagues staging up an Intervention™ out of their scarcely-better hygienic standard.

 _“Human bodies,”_ Ulaz solemnly intoned, gazing down at Keith like a grey-moral-scientist mourning a creation he had to put down—even though he was only looking at Keith who was pulling weeds for his handyman service, _“can_ not _, must_ not _, and will_ not _survive after frequent, deliberate ingestion of unhygienic substance.”_

 _“Technically,”_ Keith answered Ulaz, licking a part of his dirt-stained hand to help push his bangs back, _“so many things are dirty these days; it’s almost inevitable that I come in contact with ‘em.”_

The former part is arguably true, but the latter is hella untrue in Ulaz’ humble opinion.

But Lance did appear, following behind him was an armada of fully-trained, experienced, hardened, hard-hearted beauticians ready to carry out Lance’s orders at a click of his fingers. And he appeared not but once either, but _three_ days a week. At _least_. Keith’s non-existent hygienic routine is ruined.

(Said armada of beauticians had taken one look at the tiny-bitty bathroom at the _Brake of Marmora_ with its impressive collection of moss and mushrooms, as well as the 3 in 1 body wash used by every single _Brake of Marmora_ staff. Lance had to call his personal security team in panic and beg them to restrain the beauticians from enacting scorched earth policy on the innocent bathroom.)

(It was a metaphorical bloodbath. The former _Brake of Marmora_ staffs were very impressed with the skill and—more noticeably—sheer fury the beauticians had displayed, that they did not even feel too offended by the still furious beauticians’ rant.)

( _“Must they really say that we were filth contaminating this precious earth for using 3 in 1 body wash though?”_ Thace mused.

 _“While I do maintain that 3 in 1 body wash is simply much more practical, I would rather not attempt to contest their opinion. Why, I could’ve used someone like them when I was still in the army,”_ Antok answered, his eyes not leaving the beauticians’ very creative and inspired application of nail files.)

Anyway, being regularly pampered with soaking in the bath, manicure and pedicure, and best of all, _massage_ , Keith’s immunity in hygiene has also weaned off, though thankfully his deity-given beauty will remain until death. So when Lance went undercover to his family’s rival beauty resort overseas with his top beauticians, Keith ended up... well.

Dirty is one way to say it, but like, in a way implying sex. A mess is another way, but like, a _hot_ mess. Or maybe a collection of sentient dirt and grime, mould and mildews strung together by cobwebs to become a garbage monster, but like, one that Lance would not mind dicking down. Preferably after a thorough hosing and sterilizing, but still.

Hence why he is here now, in Lance’s offensively lavish bathroom with its honest-to-deities sofa and fireplace built into one end of his sunken-in bathtub, as ready and eager to face his next punishment from Lance as he did his first one—that is; not very ready yet rather eager.

“Ready, Keith-y?” Lance asks. He grins in triumph, evidently satisfied and so smug Keith has to glance at the arched floor-to-ceiling windows in the bathroom, unsure between fantasizing defenestrating himself or Lance. “Now remember, if you wanna back out now, all’s fine and good! You just have to admit that you’re chick-”

“Finish that sentence and you won’t have a _chicken_ anymore,” Keith cuts Lance off. Lance chokes on his saliva, while Hunk and Shiro—formerly very ready and very eager to be co-punishers—discreetly attempt to protect their _chickens_.

The next moment, however, Keith’s bathrobe drops to the floor. Lance goes smug right away again.

“Now that’s my kitty.”

* * *

 

During a dangerous mission deep in a tiger pack’s territory in the tropical jungle, Antok suddenly has goose-bumps.

This may be because the tiger he has been tracking so far has just leapt into a tree right behind him, but somehow Antok doubts it. Being a good spy and former soldier, Antok knows when to trust in his instinct.

Right now, that instinct is telling him to _sedate the tiger right fornicating now you fool, do you desire to embrace death?!_ , so he follows it with alacrity.

The tiger barely manages to leap down before falling unconscious from the tranquilizer, and the rest of the ambush of tigers, alarmed by the turn of events, simultaneously decides to ambush Antok.

Distantly, as the situation escalates into an epic battle royal, Antok wonders if Keith has ever gotten to finish the nude modelling course he took some weeks ago. Hopefully not; Keith’s rose-and-cream complexion is too tempting to be flashed to fools who cannot control their _chickens_.

Come to think of it, this ambush of tigers looks rather emaciated. Perhaps he should try to lure them away from him with non-italicized chickens?

* * *

 

“We are fools who cannot control our chickens—I mean dicks. Cocks. Why are we still using chickens as euphemism?”

Shiro laments this, but his gaze does not waver from the sight before him. Lance puffs his chest out, proud as a bird who’s just won _the_ mating dance-off of the year, while Hunk makes a small gasp and presses a dainty hand over his mouth.

Before them is, of course, Keith; chained for the second time. He is not lying on his back, though, but standing on the ball of his right foot. His left leg is folded close against his chest, the part right above his knee cuffed and chained to a collar adorning his swan-like neck. His arms, too, are chained above his head to the rain shower head on the ceiling. Entirely nude, Keith’s chest, armpits, and crotch are too easy to look at—entirely hairless.

“Now that’s a pretty boy. Isn’t he, guys?” Lance chirps.

“Very,” Hunk and Shiro nod solemnly, even as Keith, cheeks pink from embarrassment, shoots them a dark look. He’s beautiful regardless of his expression, anyway.

“Okay, Keith, we’re going to bathe you now.” Lance takes a sponge and squeezes it, right at the dent between Keith’s collarbone. The soapy water and bubbles drip down Keith’s chest, making him jerk against his chain.

“Easy now, baby,” Shiro coos, squeezing his own sponge over Keith’s geisha-worthy nape. The latter makes a strangled sound as Shiro moves the sponge down his left side and Hunk, squeezing not the sponge but Keith’s ass, moves his sponge up Keith’s right side.

Three pairs of hands start moving all over. One hand in each pair sponges Keith’s body, but the other gropes him shamelessly. Lance switches the sponge-holding hand a couple times while playing with Keith’s nipples, before he tucks the sponge at the crook between Keith’s leg and stomach, so to have both hands free. Shiro is content only having one hand free for groping and slapping Keith’s left ass-cheek. Hunk meticulously sponges down Keith’s already-trembling right leg, from his curling toes up to the leaking head of his cock.

“Fuck, cherry, you’re so pretty even here,” Hunk says, happily looking up Keith’s puckered hole.

“Maybe next time we can make you wash a car with your body. You have such a nice ass, I wouldn’t mind seeing it wipe the windshield, all rounded and shiny with soapy water,” Shiro teases.

“Shi-iro!” Keith gasps, head tossing behind him, only to flinch and whine as Lance goes to capture his neck and _suck_. “I—I run a handyman service, dammit, I _wash car_! Don’t say things like that!”

“Oh?” Lance’s grin nearly reaches his ears, his fingers inside Keith’s ass crooking at a spot that makes Keith see stars. “Then we _definitely_ can hire your service for that?”

“How naughty, Keith,” Hunk shakes his head in mock-disapproval. “If you’re just gonna let anybody hire your service... Well, we’d better stage an intervention and hire you entirely to ourselves, hadn’t we?”

“I’d love to hire you to wash the window with these pretty nipples,” Shiro muses, finally letting go of Keith’s neck with a sizable bruise and moving down to gently bite a nipple. “It might hurt, but you’d love it even better, wouldn’t you, Keith? I can even fuck you from behind while you do that. Bet you could orgasm from seeing yourself on the window.”

“Hell, you can even hire yourself out as a maid,” Lance comments. “You’d look so pretty in a French maid costume with fishnet stockings, bent over the table and trying to clean it while I’m eating your ass.”

“Personally I prefer the—what do you call it, Shiro? You know, the naked apron thing?” Hunk asks.

“Hadaka apron,” Shiro answers, amused, yet darkly contemplative. “If you do that, Keith, I might not be able to let you go out anymore.”

Whatever sharp remark Keith may have offered is swallowed by his own disappointed noise, when his three boyfriends’ hands suddenly leave him. The noise turns into one of confusion before Lance gently turns his body to face a floor-to-ceiling mirror.

There, in the mirror, Keith finds himself still chained, indecently exposed, with bubbles all over him.

The pink of his cheeks turns red and spreads to his ears, making Lance squeal inwardly as he bestows a kiss behind each ear.

“Time to wash off,” he says in a sing-song tone, and before Keith can brace himself, cool (thankfully not frigid, but still _cold_ ) water falls on his body like rain.

Keith lets out a small scream, his orgasm coming unexpected. He falls slack against his chains, unable to keep himself standing, and exhales shakily when his boyfriends’ hands touch him again, scrubbing and rubbing and still groping, before untying him and setting him down gently on the floor.

“And what have you learnt from this, Keith?” Lance asks, brandishing another bathrobe and draping it over Keith’s pliant body.

Keith blinks sleepily once, twice, before nuzzling Lance’s neck and answering happily, “Cold water is good for orgasm but it also makes me want to pee.”

Lance blinks as well, once, twice, and frantically moves Keith’s body away. “Wha-! Keiiith! Don’t even joke about that, you mulleted dirtchild, I’m not into watersports!”

* * *

 

Regris, still the main hacker of the secret service team _Blades of Marmora_ despite his initial worry of being demoted after His Encounter With The Masked Figure Flirting With Him, smoothly slides down the impossibly strong wire sprouting from a hidden spot in his cuff-link. He keeps his head up, since 1.) he has no intention of realizing that he is dangling from the outside of a building 50 feet up in the air and 2.) he has to ensure the magnet keeping the wire on the ledge of the rooftop is still securely stuck there or risk having Kolivan sorrowfully inform Keith of his death by unsafe work practice.

...well, all his work practice is technically unsafe, but whatever.

Finally reaching the correct floor and window, Regris takes out a lipstick tube-shaped laser, creates a circle with it on the window, and kicks it in before swinging through the newly-made hole—

Only to trigger a trap that imprisons him with more deadly lasers. Damn it.

Regris indulges in a moment of bitch-slapping his past self for following Kolivan into this spy business with the expectation of Incredibly Cool Danger. Laser burn hurts, gunshot wound hurts, being teased and cooed at and having his cheeks pinched by old ladies hurt his pride very badly.

...he digresses. Kindly refrain from wondering why he gets teased and cheek-pinched by old ladies.

Please.

Anyway, having finished his indulging, Regris quickly scans his surrounding, until his eyes fall on... the masked figure from before.

“You again?!”

The masked figure has had his mask altered, displaying his lips curling into a sinister smile.

“Have you thought your answer for my question last time?” he asks.

Regris stills.

He has not met the masked figure since that one time, but he has encountered multiple mysterious incidents he highly suspects are involving said masked figure. A misplaced evidence here, a bafflingly complicated security system there, as if the masked figure is proposing Regris as his—

“My villain,” Regris hisses. “You are _my_ villain.”

The hand moves from Regris’ chin, the knuckles stroking down his neck. Regris valiantly attempts to suppress a shiver as the man smirks again.

“And you are _my_ hero,” he coos, before teasing, “or perhaps you’d prefer _my_ secret agent?”

Then he turns his back on Regris—a blatant tease, cape flaring, and leaps out of the window.

Exactly two minutes later, Regris realizes that the lasers have been removed. He smothers a noise of mortification.

Kolivan may sympathize again, but it’s not worth the embarrassment.

Seriously, Regris keeps turning into a Disaster Gay when meeting this ma—no, _his_ villain. Almost as if he’s still meeting with his former—

Yeah, no. As if Regris’ former sugar daddy would become a villain for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't proofread anything. I started this yesterday for two hours and finished this morning in another two hours.
> 
> If you found any mistake/weird scene/etc or if you have anything else, kindly comment below.  
> (Really please comment, I'm so lonely.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shiro deals his punishment to Keith... and the sugar-daddies-turned-boyfriends reach a Horrible Conclusion™.  
> (Nothing actually horrible tho, no worries, I'm a baby who can't handle bad things.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me @ this chapter 4: Are you going to be a little bitch again?? Are you going to refuse being written again?? I can't believe this I love Sheith and yet you keep refusing to be written-  
> this chapter 4: *finished with difficulty*  
> me @ chapter 4: *choked up voice* I love you

 

Before Shiro and his skill in _fucking Keith into orgasm hard enough he instantly blacks out afterward_ appeared in Keith’s life, Keith never had any problem _not_ sleeping. That is to say, he could just carry on with his life without sleeping for an entire week, and the only consequence would be his former colleagues ‘acquiring’ elephant tranquilizer and trying to make him sleep.

 _“Human bodies,”_ Ulaz uttered with a hollow voice, seeming as resigned as a princess set to wed the heartless tyrant in order to spare her people—even though he was only finding a guilty-looking Keith working on a client’s car in the dead of the night, _“can_ not _, must_ not _, and will_ not _survive without any sleep for an entire week.”_

 _“Technically,”_ Keith answered Ulaz, _“according to Google, this dude called Randy Gardner managed to stay awake for 11 days.”_

_“Did you inquire this so you could tell when you should consult your insomnia with a doctor, or so you could parry my statement?”_

_“...can’t it be both?”_

But Shiro _did_ appear, right by the time Keith had acquired two (2) other sugar-daddies-that-he-had-mistaken-for-friends. And he appeared not but once either, but _every night_. With the joint effort of Shiro, Lance, and Hunk, Keith’s sleeping schedule is ruined.

( _“I mean, elephant tranquilizer is_ way _too expensive...”_ Regris started.

 _“This is pyrrhic victory,”_ Kolivan frowned.)

Anyway, being fucked so satisfactorily every night that he readily falls into dreamland at 10 and rises at 6 even without another round of dicking to wake him up has caused Keith to lose his immunity to survive without sleep as well. So when Shiro returned for an annual meeting to the main office of his corporation and Keith had no one to throw him on the bed like a sack of potatoes, he very narrowly escaped death’s grasp through fatal lack of sleep.

Hence why he is here now, in Shiro’s grandly appointed bedroom with its silver-gilt four-poster bed as big as _Keith’s whole studio apartment_ ; heart in his throat, plug in his ass, hands on the hem of his t-shirt—again, not exactly ready but very eager to strip, spread his legs, and get The Sex™ he’s been waiting for so long.

“Ready, Keith?” Shiro asks with a smile, so hopeful, boyish and unassuming that Keith _knows_ he is in for it. “This is your last bout of punishment, remember; so if you think that you have been punished enough and can guarantee this won’t happen again, we can just stop now-”

The look Keith shoots him is so adorably murderous that it takes all of Shiro’s (and Hunk and Lance’s) self-restraint not to squeal in delight.

Or hide somewhere safe, whichever.

Keith strips with a huff. Shiro smiled serenely.

“Excellent, baby.”

* * *

 

Having just broken the safe in the private office of Zarkon Galra, CEO of Galra Universal Inc., Kolivan suddenly stills.

This may be because of the big, calloused hand clamping his nape loosely, yet firmly—a promise and a threat wrapped in one, so bodice-ripper novels would describe it—but somehow Kolivan doubts it. This isn’t solely a denial of reality, but also because Kolivan knows it’s his Keith-instinct talking.

He delivers a spinning kick and leaps out of Zarkon’s grasp in one fluid move. One hand instinctively flies to his bladed gun, but he has to abort the move and dodge instead, as Zarkon launches himself at him with a familiar, bloodthirsty smirk.

“So you’ve come back, my Blade.”

Kolivan’s mask automatically slides over his face a second before he releases nerve gas in the room.

Distantly—while prying open a vent cover and channelling his inner-Regris to crawl away at records-breaking speed—Kolivan wonders if Keith has actually gone to the _shibari_ workshop he’s mentioned an interest in going during their last Skype.

Hopefully not; Kolivan will bet not even the deities can restrain themselves from keeping Keith tied up all the time after seeing him bound so.

* * *

 

“Are you _absolutely_ sure we can’t keep you bound all the time?”

Hunk asks plaintively, his big eyes rapturously going over Keith’s exposed body. Lance’s hand already moves to fix the problem in his pants, while Shiro leans against his bedpost and smiles complacently.

Keith, naked and shackled to Shiro’s bed on all fours, shoots Hunk an exasperated yet amused look.

“Yes, Hunk, absolutely sure. I do need my hands and feet, y’know.”

“We would gladly wait on you. Hand and foot,” Lance solemnly tells Keith. “Pun totally intended.”

“I need them to exercise too. Pretty sure you can’t do that for me.”

“We can walk you like a pretty puppy. Or kitty, although I don’t know if anyone even walks a kitty-”

“Let’s discuss pet play some other time, Lance,” Shiro interjects dryly. “We got Keith here to punish, after all.”

The way the last sentence is uttered sends a shiver up Keith’s spine. He steals a glance at Shiro, and is thrilled to find the dark lust there.

Sending Shiro a sly, inviting smile, Keith asks, “Well, are you going to punish me or...?”

The sentence is not cut off purposefully. Keith yelps in surprise as Shiro’s flesh hand swings down to meet his ass with a smacking sound, hard.

“I’d explain how the point of this punishment is so you can learn not to skip on sleeping again, but to be honest, I just want to spank you while you have this plug inside until you orgasm,” Shiro explains without a trace of shame in his voice.

“Remember to safeword if you need it, Keith,” Hunk reminds Keith, who responds by attempting to bat his eyelashes seductively. He ends up blinking normally, but it’s enough to make Hunk waver.

“Ten smacks from each of us. Count and thank us for them.”

With that instruction and a last generous squeeze of Keith’s ass, Shiro delivers his first smack. With it comes a sudden vibration from the butt plug, causing Keith to yell in surprise.

“O-one... Thank you, sir!”

The second, third, fourth and fifth follow. By the sixth, Keith moans loudly as Lance sneaks under his body to bite and lick his nipples and Hunk gently strokes his dick. He subconsciously rocks his body to and fro, wilder as the vibrating increases and the smacks intensify.

After the tenth smack, Shiro lands a kiss on each reddened ass-cheek, and another on each blushing cheek besides. Keith whines and attempts to nuzzle the bulge straining behind Shiro’s trousers, but Lance clamps his nape and begins whispering dirty things into his ear.

Hunk’s smack alternates between too soft and too hard, Goldilocks-esque. Keith keeps arching back his ass when the smack is too soft and gets practically sent flying over Lance when it’s too hard, and on top of it Hunk also toys with the vibration setting randomly. It’s all Keith can do to keep counting and thanking his boyfriend.

By the time it’s Lance’s turn, Keith’s already sunk into his arms. Shiro, Hunk, and Lance all have their dicks out and jack them off; Shiro jacking Keith’s alongside himself. Lance, between stroking his own dick, alternates smacking Keith’s ass-cheeks and thighs as well as pinching wherever he can get, until Keith actually waves his ass in the air and moans uncontrollably.

When the last slap comes, harder than ever and sending the wildly vibrating plug deep inside Keith’s ass, he can barely let out a strangled _Thirtythankyousir_ before orgasming with a shout of ecstasy.

Not a moment later, strips of cum from three different dicks paint his cherry-red thighs and ass, back and hair. Keith collapses on a puddle of his own cum, limbs trembling and open mouth panting, then whimpering when he feels hands scooping the cum off his body and waving before his face, ordering him to lick them clean.

Hunk and Lance coo at Keith, while Shiro unshackles him and proceeds to massage the stiff limbs. A contented sigh from Keith causes Shiro’s smile to widen.

“And what have you learnt from this, Keith?” he asks, still smiling fondly as he cups Keith’s cheek.

Keith smiles back, rather dopily, and nuzzles into Shiro’s hand. There’s a hint of mischief in his eyes, however, when he shoots his boyfriends a glance.

“That no matter how badly I take care of myself, you guys will be here to do it for me.”

Hunk, Lance, and Shiro nearly let out very un-masculine awed sounds, but Shiro abruptly stills. Eyes wide in horror, he turns to the confused-looking Hunk and Lance.

“Guys, have we-” night-black eyes darting to Keith, “-have we been enabling Keith all along?”

Hunk and Lance’s eyes also widen in horror before darting to the now blissfully sleeping Keith. They all stare wordlessly at Keith, until he makes a small noise and nuzzles closer to them somehow.

At this, Hunk relaxes. “Oh well, at least I know he’ll eat if I feed him.”

Lance joins. “And I know he won’t resist if I bathe him,” this he says while ignoring all the times Keith has screamed and valiantly attempted to fight off Lance’s beautician army in panic.

Finally, Shiro sighs, helpless but too in love to protest. “And _I_ know he will go to sleep if I fuck him.”

Staring at each other with equal helplessness and exasperation and love, the three men then break into laughter.

“Oh, Keith, whatever are we going to do with you?”

* * *

 

Time has passed ever since that First Meeting™. Many missions have been done and/or sabotaged. Many heated encounters, both accidental and otherwise, have been had. Many kidnappings and/or rescues from kidnappings have been accomplished as well.

Little by little, Regris’ undefined yet undeniably heartfelt relationship with his villain has mended the wound left by having to break up with his adorkable sugar daddy Matt to spare Kolivan’s sanity.

(Regris would like to confirm that, although he is totally entitled to it, he does not begrudge Kolivan pleading him. Not only is it a truly rare thing worthy of bragging in front of wide-eyed recruits of the _Blade of Marmora_ , he knows that Kolivan cares for him just as he cares for Kolivan, and Kolivan _had_ been growing lax with his Constant Vigilance until Keith’s sugar-daddies-turned-boyfriends came, so it’s only reasonable that Kolivan wouldn’t realize Regris has had a sugar daddy already by that time.)

(Regris also would like to confirm that he’s made sure Kolivan _will_ benefit from more ~excitement~, before contacting the CEO of Galra Inc who was also Kolivan’s nemesis Back In The Day and informed him where he could find Kolivan to rekindle old flame.)

(Really, Ulaz should stop giving Regris such an exasperated look.)

Alas, when there is Good in Regris having his own villain with whom he can move on, there is Bad in Regris finding himself having to battle on the rooftop of Holt Inc—his former sugar daddy’s beloved company—with said villain against a Generic Other Villain who seeks retribution over being rejected as intern at the company decades ago.

Regris very professionaly refrains from being impressed by how long the guy could hold a grudge.

After a deadly dance between faceless minions and flying drones, Regris manages to shoot his blade at the Generic Villain, effectively toppling him down. But then GV cackles, “TOO LATE!” and pushes a big, red button that proceeds to detonate parts of the building.

Including the part Regris’ villain is standing on.

A wordless cry of horror escapes Regris’ lips. The scene changes into slow motion, the camera zooms in on Regris’ legs running and leaping off the rooftop, then to his hand shooting forward, and finally to his villain, staring back at the camera—well, Regris—with his own hand stretched, futilely trying to reach Regris.

In a true cinematic move, Regris manages to catch his villain’s hand in time, hanging off the ledge of the rooftop with his other hand. In a _truer_ cinematic move, the impact of the near-fall has caused his villain’s mask to break, allowing Regris to come (heh, _come_ ) face-to-face with someone he swears is his former sugar daddy, more rugged and longer-haired and with a scar on his cheek, but undeniably still him.

In _the truest_ cinematic move, Regris whispers in disbelief, “Youre... Matt?”

In the ultimate cinematic move, the kind meant to go down (heh, _go down_ ) in history, Matt looks up with an awkward little smile and tells Regris, “...I can explain. Don’t be mad?”

Regris is definitely mad. And definitely aroused because Matt has gone from _I’ll have him home by 8_ to _Your son calls me daddy too_ , which is ironic considering he’s no longer Regris’ sugar daddy.

(On a side note, Matt has—after a moment of panic knowing Regris was going to be there—actually planned to play distraction for GV while allowing the employees to escape secretly. Casualty ends up nil and collateral damage lower than anticipated. When debriefing and other ~spy stuff~ is finished, Matt asks Regris if he’s willing to have him as a boyfriend instead of a sugar daddy or a villain. Regris is very willing and very enthusiastic.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that moment when you read something Super Amazing and was simultaneously entertained and discouraged bc you know your own work could not measure up to it? Yeah, I just read something That Amazing and had to look at my fanfics sadly. I still love them but I'm still sad too.
> 
> Please comment, I haven't chatted with anyone but my father for the past fortnight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lotor appears again, Keith and Kolivan talk on the phone, and another rare pairing happens.

 

While jogging ahead of his sugar-daddies-turned-boyfriends, Keith is halted by a voice greeting him.

“Oh, hello! Keith, is it not?”

Keith blinks, looking up at a handsome face framed by long, white, silken hair pulled into a ponytail. He stares at that smiling face for a few seconds before his brain connects.

“Oh, hi. Lotor, right?” Keith asks, right as Hunk, Lance and Shiro catch up to him and stop dead at the sight of Lotor.

“Indeed!” Lotor beams, offering Keith his hand. “I want to thank you again for your assistance, back when your colleagues—ah, former colleagues, is it now?—were too preoccupied with an important matter to look after my car. It has behaved most splendidly now.”

Keith’s eyes light up. It’s the kind of lighting up done in sincerely happy way, which is fucking lethal even on the plainest face.

On Keith’s beautiful, _very_ beautiful face, it promises nuclear-level devastation.

“I’m glad,” Keith says, with a voice as sincerely happy as the look in his eyes. He gives Lotor a small, shy, yet also sincere smile.

Hunk, Lance, and Shiro all can see—and are seeing—the exact moment Lotor becomes Captivated™. His breath hitches, his pupils dilate, his cheeks redden, and he opens his mouth to possibly propose to Keith on the spot, which is _so not on_.

Shiro marches up to them, effortlessly scoops Keith up into his strong arms, smiles at Keith blinking at him in confusion, then stalks away with Keith still cradled in his arms with nary a glance at Lotor.

Hunk doesn’t do anything but smiles smugly to himself, but Lance smirks and gives Lotor the finger.

Lotor sniffs, insulted.

* * *

 

_“Then I take it everything is alright, Keith?”_

“Yes, Kolivan, everything’s alright,” Keith answers, a hint of teasing in his voice. There is not a hint of insincerity there, because Keith does not consider being ~*punished*~ by his three (3) boyfriends in three (3) different kinky ways as something not-alright.

Hey, everything’s consensual and _nice_ anyway; and besides, if Keith does tell Kolivan about the sex, Kolivan may be tempted to ‘accident’ his boyfriends.

“How are you and the others?” Keith switches to asking.

Kolivan makes a noncommittal hum. _“Thace and Ulaz have finally gotten together,”_ he says. _“Thace got the courage to confess after Ulaz joined his infiltration mission as a zenana doctor and they had to fake being in a relationship to trade their info.”_

Kindly refrain from wondering whether this matter may be divulged to a civilian or whether Keith is not an actual civilian. What Kolivan has told Keith is, after all, essentially gossip.

 _“Antok has become a bit wilder after his mission in the tropical jungle, and returned with an ambush of tigers which he is now alpha of,”_ Kolivan continues after listening to Keith’s heartfelt felicitations. _“I am commissioning you to make a playhouse for those tigers, by the way. Keep it secret; it’ll be for Antok’s birthday.”_

“Do I get to play with the tigers?”

 _“Maybe if you’re good,”_ Kolivan says. _“Regris had been worrying me for a bit, but thankfully all is well now. I had no idea he was courting the heir of Holt Inc this entire time; perhaps I should have stayed in retirement.”_

The last sentence is uttered with a touch of wistfulness. Keith instantly voices his disagreement.

“You’re the best spy ever, Kolivan. It’s not like the heir of Holt Inc is ever related to all those missions Regris has done!”

(In the Holt Hall, where a nervous Matt is nervously introducing his equally nervous boyfriend Regris to the rest of the Holts, the couple suddenly sneezes together. Thankfully, it breaks the stiffness of the affair, and everyone has a nice time after that.)

 _“Still,”_ Kolivan shakes his head, but doesn’t continue his back-to-retirement plan. _“Well, that’s all the news about everyone. We’re all fine and looking forward for vacation at home.”_

Keith smiles happily at the mention of ‘home’. Yes, the _Brake of Marmora_ is still their shared home, notwithstanding most of its members being away on missions overseas the greater part of the year.

“I’m glad, Kolivan. Really, for all of you.”

_“And I for you, Keith. ...and those boyfriends of yours, too. Goodness knows Ulaz is not as stressed over your well-being anymore with your boyfriends able to take care of you. Ulaz can finally change that mohawk of his into a more respectable hairstyle.”_

“Wait, what do you mean all this time Ulaz has been going _bald_ because of me-”

_“He insisted that it was alright. He only deems it prudent to change his hairstyle into something less noticeable considering his current occupation. You can ask your mother about it in details when she returns later with us.”_

“Wait, Kolivan, what mother-?!”

_“Oh, and Keith, if you were approached by anyone from Galra Universal Inc., do not hesitate to kick them in the balls and show your disapproval. I’ve taken the liberty to ensure Mr_ _Galra that you’ll be opposed to him propositioning me.”_

“Mr Galra?! Not Mr Zarkon “The Emperor” Galra?! Kolivan, what-!”

The call is disconnected with a swift farewell. Keith gapes wordlessly at his innocent phone.

* * *

 

When Kolivan opens his eyes and finds himself in a luxuriously appointed room with French windows opening to a semi-tropical garden and a promenade edged by a balustrade overlooking the sparkling ocean, he sighs tiredly.

“I have three co-parents and two children already,” he says.

“Do not fret, my Blade,” comes the rumbling voice of no other than Mr Zarkon “The Emperor” Galra. “My wife Haggar and my son Lotor are both receptive to you being here. I shall ensure that you have a pleasant stay.”

“I’m escaping first chance I get,” Kolivan informs him.

Zarkon _smiles_. “I expect nothing less from you, my Blade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defence, Kolivan is the leader of a rebel organization while Zarkon is the ruler of the empire Kolivan's organization opposes. I'm surprised there's been very little stories with the two of them.
> 
>  
> 
> (Or Macidus that fucker who tied Kolivan up in the ceiling bc you know there should have been smut for it already.)
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments!!

**Author's Note:**

> Ngl, I had the draft lying around since... days after I finished Care Package? Maybe? But then I lost my motivation, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Anyway, unlike in Care Package (before the 4th chapter at least), I can't guarantee weekly update, especially since I haven't written them to begin with (¬_¬)
> 
> Please comment, I'm thirsty for Validation


End file.
